


For The Night Is Dark

by softestpink



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cuddles, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpink/pseuds/softestpink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re cold.” Jojen accuses, eyes unreadable. Bran considers lying, but Jojen will know. Jojen always seems to know. </p>
<p>“Yes.” he agrees, because Old Nan once told him that cripples must find comfort in things, and Bran finds comfort in speaking truths these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Night Is Dark

“You’re cold.” Jojen accuses, eyes unreadable. Bran considers lying, but Jojen will know. Jojen always seems to know.

 

“Yes.” he agrees, because Old Nan once told him that cripples must find comfort in things, and Bran finds comfort in speaking truths these days.

 

Jojen stands, yellow hair golden in the firelight and rolls up his skins. He packs them up in his arms and walks over to Bran, sticking close to the fire on his way.

 

“What are you doing?” Bran asks quietly, careful not to wake Meera and Hodor on the other side of the fire. Jojen only raises an eyebrow as he kneels before him. He pauses in unfolding his bedding and leans forward, so close that their noses are almost touching.

 

“You are brave, Brandon Stark.” he says evenly. Bran’s stomach vaults and his jaw suddenly aches. He isn’t sure what the feeling is, but it makes him panic.

 

“Why?” he asks when the silence becomes too thick for him to bear. “Because I sent my brother away? Because I lost Winterfell? Because I lost my legs? Tell me, Jojen.”

 

But he only stares at Bran, eyes large and black as coal in the firelight.

 

“Do you feel sorry for yourself often, Heir of Winterfell, brother to the King of the North?” he asks quietly and for a moment, Bran can’t stand to look at him. He watches the fire, a small affair that Meera had worked hard to achieve.  

 

“Don’t.” Jojen continues, and Bran is sucked back into those eyes in a matter of seconds. “You are more powerful than any Ironborn, Targaryen, or wildling combined.”

 

It’s a lie, Bran knows, but the way Jojen says it, the way he _looks at Bran_ when says it- it makes him feel strong nonetheless.

 

“Even the Targaryens? They had dragons.” 

 

“Stronger than any dragon.” Jojen smiles and it’s quick but Bran wants to see it again, to smile back. He ducks his head and fiddles with a thread on his breeches.

 

“Go to sleep, Silvertongue.”

 

“I will.” Jojen agrees, lying next to him on his furs. “But first, I will not let my Lord freeze.”

 

And suddenly, before he can roll his eyes at the address, Jojen’s pulling Bran against him, shifting his limbs like a poppet. He nudges Bran onto his side with a series of bullying pokes and tugs and pulls Bran's torso against the warmth of his. Strange. It doesn’t make Bran feel weak or useless the way he sometimes does when Hodor picks him up. It isn’t long before he’s curled against Bran, arms around him and chest pressed to his back. Jojen is tall. Taller than Bran had noticed. His feet barely grace the ends of Jojen’s shins.

 

He breathes and Bran feels it.

 

“Do you feel it?” Bran whispers quietly, voice a bit muffled in his furs.

 

“The cold?”

 

“No, I mean- when we look through them- the animals, can you feel it? I’m not sure what it is, but-”

 

“It’s them.” Jojen whispers and Bran can feel his freezing lips against the back of his neck. “Their spirit, life force, whatever you want to call it.” Bran noticed.

 

“Are we hurting them?” he asks, because he’s been wondering ever since Hodor and-

 

“No. No, we aren’t hurting them.” Jojen sounds sure, but-

 

“How do you know?”

 

“It’s a gift, Bran. Not a curse. The beasts feel as we feel.” He takes hold of Bran’s hand and Jojen’s shoulder nearly eclipses his when he lifts it above them. He traces a flying figure in the night sky, and Bran’s breath catches at the feel of Jojen’s fingers spreading his.

 

“Would you like to practice?” he mouth is on Bran’s ear now and Bran can feel himself blushing like one of the King's maidens.

 

“Later.” he says and the word feels thick and heavy on his tongue. “It is late. We need sleep if you're to drag me beyond the Wall.”

 

“Goodnight then, my Lord.” Jojen laughs and Bran can feel the warm huffs against his neck. His skin feels tingly and unreal as Jojen drops their hands together, but Bran is the one that keeps them locked, holding onto Jojen’s fingers.

 

“ ‘s Bran.” he yawns.

 

“Goodnight, Bran.”    

 

"Goodnight, Jojen."

  
Summer curls against his front and Bran runs their hands against his fur, paw resting on Jojen’s ankle as if to include him in the embrace. Slowly, Bran drifts off to the sound of Jojen’s slow breaths and Summer’s protective growls.

**Author's Note:**

> At first, I was gonna let them do sexy things, bUT THEY'RE BABIES AND I JUST COULDN'T I'M SORRY


End file.
